Mr Darcy's Valentine
by AnneMarieGrace
Summary: What if Lydia never eloped with Mr. Wickham and Elizabeth enjoyed many pleasant days at Pemberley with Mr. Darcy—only to never see him again? Unable to get the man out of her mind, when Elizabeth discovers that Mr. Darcy is the one behind her dear sister's recent engagement to Mr. Bingley, she decides to send him a valentine to show her appreciation.
1. Chapter 1

**MR. DARCY'S VALENTINE** **by Anne-Marie Grace © 2017**

 **Happy Valentine's Day!**

 **This story is already published on Amazon, but I will be sharing the chapters here as well.**

 **I will upload a new chapter every Friday.** **I hope you enjoy!**

 **Love,**

 **Anne-Marie Grace**

* * *

 **CHAPTER 1 - Elizabeth**

Even the shadows cast by the flickering candlelight could not hide the expression of pure happiness on Jane's face. Elizabeth smiled softly as she watched her sister recount her proposal from the good-humoured Mr. Bingley.

"Mamma will be impossible now, you know," Elizabeth said as she pulled the brush through Jane's long hair. "If she has the telling of it, all of Meryton will be under the impression that she is the sole reason for your current betrothment and future felicity."

Jane laughed gently. "Oh Lizzy, I care not! Mamma can tell whatever tale makes her happy. There is none in the world as happy as I on this night, and I wish the same for all!"

"You are good-hearted, my dear sister, to be concerned for everyone else on this day." Elizabeth laughed. She continued to brush, then braid, her sister's hair as Jane relayed every moment of Mr. Bingley's long-awaited proposal.

"Mamma does deserve credit; she cleverly orchestrated that Charles and I should be left alone in the sitting room," said Jane, colour rising to her face.

"Charles?" Elizabeth asked, a teasing note in her voice.

"Mr. Bingley," Jane quickly amended. "While you were nowhere to be found, and the rest were taken up with cards, we found ourselves very much alone," Jane rushed on. "It was terribly wonderful to be there with him, though I started to worry when he began pacing the room."

Elizabeth nodded, picturing in her mind the scene Jane described. Being familiar with both her sister and the newly-engaged Mr. Bingley, it was not surprising that Jane's proposal had included a small amount of preparation on the part of Mr. Bingley.

"In my mind, I knew what I was hoping he would say," Jane continued, as she and Elizabeth switched places, and she took up the brush. "But after so much time and patience for him, I did not want to raise my hopes too high."

Jane began to let down Elizabeth's hair without a pause in her story. It was a dance the sisters performed every night, and they knew the steps by heart. Elizabeth felt a small pang of sadness. Tonight, the familiar ritual brought a certain sense of poignancy.

While their mother had been preparing them for marriage for some time, tonight was the first time Elizabeth truly realised what Jane's marriage to Bingley would mean for their sisterhood. While giddy with delight at Jane's good fortune, she also felt the beginning of a small loneliness creeping in. These nights together were fast coming to an end.

"When he first asked me to marry him, he spoke so softly! Barely above a whisper," Jane laughed. "I immediately knew what he had asked, and I felt my heart begin to race, but I had to ask him to repeat himself. I wanted to be sure I had the right of it." She paused, smiling to herself.

Elizabeth watched her in the mirror, pushing her burgeoning melancholy away and focusing on Jane.

"And did he?" She prompted, gently pulling Jane away from her reverie.

"Of course he did! He cleared his throat and asked again with surprising firmness in his voice. He had barely finished his question before I said yes. The look in his eyes is one I will never forget. I can still feel the touch of his hands on mine." She sighed to herself dreamily. "And that's when you walked in."

Now it was Elizabeth's turn to colour. Walking into such an intimate moment between Jane and her newly betrothed was the very definition of awkward.

"What did Mr. Bingley whisper to you just before I came in?" Elizabeth asked. "Right before you hastily broke apart?"

Jane began to brush Lizzy's hair more quickly, and she cleared her throat daintily before answering.

"Just that he would ask Papa for his permission that very moment."

"And so, he did." Elizabeth smiled although she wasn't quite sure whether her sister was telling the whole truth of it. "I will say that I do not know that I've seen both Mamma and Papa so pleased at the same time. You have made them both very proud, my dear sister."

"Lizzy, I'm just so happy! I do not think I've stopped smiling since this morning. And to think, if not for Mr. Darcy, none of this would have happened at all!"

Elizabeth felt her jaw drop an inch before she caught it.

"Mr. Darcy? Are you quite sure?" She asked, barely concealing her shock. "I would think that encouraging Mr. Bingley to renew his attentions towards you to be quite opposite to Mr. Darcy's character."

Elizabeth could still clearly remember how, all those months ago at Rosings, she had discovered Mr. Darcy to be involved in the very act of separating Mr. Bingley from her dear sister. And although she now knew he had done it out of the kindness of his heart towards his friend—confirmed of Jane's indifference to the man—the thought sent a pang of emotion through her chest.

Or rather, the thought of Mr. Darcy did.

"Really Lizzy, do you think so?" Jane asked, oblivious to her thoughts, although her voice carried a puzzled note. "After you related the pleasant time you, aunt, and uncle Gardiner spent with him at Pemberley last summer, I'd quite thought you had changed your opinion."

Elizabeth started, surprised that Jane had so accurately perceived her changing feelings towards the man. After she had refused him, she'd thought herself rid of Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy. But during her travels with their dear aunt and uncle, a chance encounter and dinner at his estate had begun a reversal of thought. Very much so.

She was saved having to respond by Jane's continued narrative.

"Well, as it happens, Mr. Bingley was totally ignorant of my being in London last spring! I had not thought it possible, but it seems Mr. Darcy had come to know about my presence later on and had informed Mr. Bingley of it!"

A light frown creased Jane's forehead and she paused for a moment. "It must have been his sisters' doing. They were certainly no friends to his acquaintance with me, which I cannot wonder at, since he might have chosen so much more advantageously in many respects. I can only hope that with time, they will see that their brother is happy with me, and we shall be on good terms again; though we can never be what we once were to each other."

"Good girl!" Elizabeth said, her eyebrows rising at her sister's insightfulness. "That is the most unforgiving speech that I ever heard you utter."

Jane smiled at her, her mind obviously moving past Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst and back to her recent engagement.

"Would you believe it, Lizzy, that when he went to town last November, he really loved me, and nothing but a persuasion of my indifference would have prevented his coming down again! He told me he was quite hesitant to return to Netherfield, believing that—after so many months apart—my feelings were no longer for him."

Jane's face coloured once more, but she continued on. "But Mr. Darcy is quite the insightful man and saw the true feelings Mr. Bingley and I share for one another. He encouraged Mr. Bingley to come here again and renew our acquaintance to the happiest of conclusions!"

Elizabeth struggled to keep her expression neutral. She was in shock. After hearing Mr. Darcy's words on her sister and Mr. Bingley when the man had proposed to her, she could hardly believe he would have interfered in such a manner now!

She wondered, might her own words have affected his change of verdict?

As she and Jane climbed into bed, Elizabeth found herself dwelling upon this new information about Mr. Darcy. She continued to think on it long after the candles went out and Jane began snoring softly beside her. The pang of sadness she had felt earlier was beginning to grow, and it confused her.

She was overjoyed for Jane, she thought as she stared at the ceiling through the darkness. There was no doubt in her mind about that, so why did she feel so much more pensive when Mr. Darcy's name had entered into the story?

Even as she thought the question, she knew the answer. But the answer terrified her.

For long months, she had pondered and dwelled upon Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy. At times, she had found herself furious at his arrogance, only to have her anger turn towards warm regard as she remembered the kindness and hospitality he has bestowed upon her and her dear aunt and uncle at Pemberley— even after she had so thoroughly dismissed his proposal.

Mr. Darcy had been so kind to her as she had visited his estate with the Gardiners—quite the opposite of the man he had been when he'd proposed to her! And it was all kindness she hardly deserved after her incredibly crude rejection of him.

When she considered his attentions to his sister, the care he showed for his tenants and servants... Even the beauty of Pemberley itself, for no man could invest in such loveliness without it touching his heart and character… It all only provided more evidence that she had completely and entirely misjudged Mr. Darcy's character.

Jane's revelation sealed it all in her mind.

Mr. Darcy was indeed a man of great pride and singular self-assurance. However, to condemn him as arrogant was a sin of which Elizabeth must repent.

But the months separating the wonderful days she had spent at Pemberley and this day were proving a chasm between her and her apology.

To prove her contrite heart, she needed a gesture that went beyond a simple apology hastily given. Fortunately, she had no doubt there would be ample opportunity for that—they would both undoubtedly attend the upcoming celebrations at Longbourn and Netherfield in honour of Jane and Mr. Bingley.

Unbidden, an image rose in her mind of a card she and her sisters had seen at a shop in Meryton the week before. Beautifully wrought in red paper and lace, the card had proclaimed the romantic words some lovers were unable to compose. Kitty and Lydia had giggled, as they were wont to do, and they had both declared that they would have no need for others to write their messages of love.

As Kitty and Lydia had sighed over their imagined suitors, Jane had undoubtedly thought of Mr. Bingley. And Elizabeth had shocked herself to realise that she had thought of Mr. Darcy.

A valentine, she thought. That would certainly be a gesture.

Even alone, in the dark, with no one able to hear her thoughts, she felt slightly scandalised. A single woman sending a letter—not even a letter—a valentine, to a man she was not betrothed to…

It was simply not done. Certainly not by respectable ladies from good families. And certainly not by ladies with no dowries who still hoped to make a good marriage. No, it simply would not do.

She tossed and turned on the bed, hoping sleep would provide inspiration for another idea—a respectable way to show her repentance and change of opinion. But sleep was elusive and no other idea came. No other gesture seemed worthy enough. Her mind kept going back to the card, the lace, the valentine.

She sighed to herself, making her decision. A valentine it would be.

It's not as if he would be shocked by her lack of grace and respectability, she thought sadly as she rolled onto her side. He had only proposed to her against his better judgement and this was yet another piece of evidence to that claim.

She felt a small stream of tears begin to roll down her cheek and disappear into the fabric of the pillow. She was exceedingly glad Jane was not awake to ask her what was wrong. Whether her tears were because he thought of her so, or because she knew that no matter how she repented, he would never propose to her again, she truly did not know.

After long hours of tumbling in the bed, sleep finally began to overtake her, as if it had only been waiting for her to make the decision. Slowly, the blackness of the room enveloped her mind.

Her last thought was of Mr. Darcy and the valentine…


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER 2 - Darcy**

"Come now, Darcy! You must go!"

Darcy gave his friend, Charles Bingley, a flat look. He couldn't fault the man his expression of purest delight, but he simply would _not_ attend a dinner at Longbourn. Not while a certain Miss Bennet still resided there.

They sat together over breakfast and Darcy felt annoyance rising within him. This conversation was ruining a perfectly fine meal.

"I'm a newly engaged man, and I must have my best friend by my side to assuage any doubts that may plague me," Bingley joked.

Darcy heaved a sigh. "You know, Charles, when you say things like that, it makes me wonder whether I did the right thing in all of this."

Bingley gave Darcy a look of mock surprise. "Was that a joke? Did you intend humour or was it just a happy accident?"

"Contrary to popular belief, I am in possession of both wit and humour," Darcy replied dryly. He was not enjoying the teasing turn of conversation.

"Wit is never something that has been argued, Darcy. However, several ladies in both our acquaintance might have an opinion as to the humour in your possession."

Darcy bristled; he didn't think Bingley knew how close that remark hit. The wound caused by Miss Elizabeth Bennet had not yet fully healed, and Bingley blindly poked at it. Darcy swallowed his annoyance—it wasn't Charles' fault; he had no idea what had transpired between himself and Elizabeth.

Sighing again—this time slightly more inconspicuously—he buttered his toast. Bingley was not going to let this invitation go.

"Let's say, for conversation's sake, that I agreed to attend said dinner," he said. "What would you want of me? We both know I am not a particularly sought after conversationalist."

He took a bite of his toast and shifted uncomfortably. He knew he was being honest, but he never liked admitting to shortcomings—even inane social shortcomings like dull conversation.

"Want of you?" Bingley replied, genuinely surprised. "I don't _want_ anything of you. Just to celebrate, and have a fun evening." He gave Darcy a roguish look. "The Bennets do have four other daughters."

"I do not find that amusing," Darcy said dryly, showing him just how _un_ -amusing he found the topic. He quickly willed the conversation to move past that comment without further review.

"Alright, I'll come," he said after a minute. "Perhaps Mr. Bennet and I can have a nice discussion about the…" He searched for a topic that both he and Mr. Bennet might enjoy conversing over. "...shooting. Or the upcoming growing season."

"Splendid! Thank you, Darcy." Bingley raised his teacup towards Darcy and nodded his head. Darcy raised his cup as well, and gave the man a half-hearted smile.

What in the world had he just agreed to…?

The rest of the meal passed without mention of the dinner, Longbourn, or the Bennets, for which Darcy was grateful. After they had finished eating, he begged for pardon and gathered his coat, hat and gloves, setting out for a walk around Netherfield's ample grounds.

"Remember," Bingley called to him as he exited the front door. "We'll be leaving for Longbourn late afternoon."

Darcy nodded at him and walked out the door, relieved to take a breath of the fresh air. He stamped on the gravel drive a bit harder than was normal, his hands clasped firmly behind his back. He began his walk with a brisk pace, perhaps hoping to outpace the anxiety entering his mind.

The Bennets.

He should have seen this coming when he'd informed Bingley of Miss Jane Bennet's unwavering affections. Not that he would have allowed his own discomforts to stand in the way of Charles' happiness. But still, he felt a growing coldness as he thought of the upcoming dinner that night—and it had nothing to do with the chill in the air.

He never should have allowed Charles to talk him into coming back to Netherfield in the first place! Darcy underlined this thought with a slight kick of the grass. Charles and his need for 'mental support'. He, Fitzwilliam Darcy, had done enough for the man without allowing himself to be bullied into an evening with the man's betrothed and her family!

Darcy stopped himself from remembering the entirety of the Bennet family. Jane was lovely and Elizabeth… Well, Elizabeth was in a category all her own, but the rest… He sighed as his resolve to not focus on the rest melted.

Mrs. Bennet may just be the most frivolous woman Darcy had ever met. If the woman ever had a thought deeper than a puddle… Darcy stepped around a particularly deep puddle in the middle of his path. And the two youngest girls. He had always been grateful that Georgiana was not prone to fits of giggles. Giggling made his head hurt.

He continued to tramp along through the field, completely ignoring the drops of mud spattering onto his trousers. His resolve to not focus on the Bennets was completely gone. There was another daughter. Yes, he was sure there was another daughter, but he could not bring her face to his mind. A sad reflection on the girl, unfortunately.

Darcy stopped suddenly and realised what he was doing.

This, this… attitude was the problem from which all his others stemmed. This was the arrogance that Elizabeth had so harshly criticised and for which she'd thrown his proposal into his face. He started his walk again more slowly, pushing aside his annoyance as sadness crept over him.

 _Elizabeth_.

The name itself pricked at his heart and caused great pain. Her face formed in his mind, and he unsuccessfully tried to push it away. Thinking of her caused him pain, but not thinking of her would cause his death.

His face reddened at that thought. If Charles, or anyone else for that matter, heard him say such nonsense, he'd never hear the end of it. He sounded like a man from one of the novels Georgiana tried to hide. All flowery romance and undying love. Pure and utter nonsense. He was a man of reason. A man of science and logic. Not one given to poetry and fine words—leave that to other men.

Yet, he could not deny what reason and logic revealed to him: He was undone. By a woman. Not just any woman, but one in possession of great intelligence, wit, humour and beauty. Although however beautiful her face, it was her mind that had ensnared him.

And he was caught, like a rabbit in a trap, and tonight the hunter came. He would see her tonight. A thrill raced through him at the thought. Whether it was excitement or dread, he could not tell. Perhaps both.

His mind escaped to the last time he had seen her. Last summer. At Pemberley.

He had been completely unaware of her being in the neighbourhood, and suddenly, she had simply arrived at his doorstep, like a gift sent from heaven—or from hell, to torture his soul with what he had lost and could never have.

Although her visit with her aunt and uncle, Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner, had been most unexpected, they had spent many fine days together at his estate. Many fine days with Elizabeth. And if he had thought he was in love with her before, then that would have been a lie. During those days at Pemberley… _That's_ when he truly fell in love.

He had never pictured himself falling in love. No, that romantic love that the artists and poets talked about had never appealed to him. It didn't seem real. It wasn't solid and examinable.

He knew that he would marry, eventually, because it was his duty. There must always be a Darcy at Pemberley and it was his task to ensure that there would be one after he died. An heir. And that would require a wife. He had assumed he would be fond of whatever woman he married. But love? A fairy tale for silly girls and the books that encouraged their silliness.

 _Until Elizabeth._

She was a woman that matched him in every way: intelligence, humour, wit, and temperament. He did not think such a creature could exist. And yet she did. He felt his heart clench as he realised that Elizabeth herself had never seen how well-suited they were—she wore her qualities out for the world to see, while he hid his behind a mask of solemnity and politeness.

Which, he realised, she had not even taken as politeness, but arrogance.

The one way in which they were not matched was in social standing, and that was all he had shown her. He hated the requirements of society and yet, when the time came for him to throw them off, he had ended up sounding like a prim spinster aunt from the oldest family in Britain.

Darcy regretted his haste. Like a boy in his first game of cards, he had shown his hand too early. His proposal had rested upon the assurances his wealth and position provided. It had not considered himself the man.

No, he had approached it all wrong. Elizabeth was not a business transaction and their life not a column of numbers in a ledger. She had shown him that she cared not for his worldly possessions and station—only his character as a man mattered, and he had presented that part of himself all wrong.

It was no wonder she had rejected him so.

Darcy sighed. He had been turned down—most adamantly so—and the shock and disappointment of that refusal had barely faded in the months since. If anything, grief only added to the misery he felt when he considered his life without Elizabeth Bennet.

During the past months, since his failed proposal at Rosings, since her visit to Pemberley, he had tried his best to banish Miss Elizabeth Bennet from his mind. And yet here he was, thinking about her once again.

Darcy paused his walk all of a sudden, taken out of his thoughts as he realised he had no idea where he was headed. He looked around to see where he had ended up, and to his surprise, found himself looking down upon Longbourn.

He certainly had not intended to end up here!

He gazed at the house and saw its occupants laughing together in the sitting room. Through the window, he could see all the women of the Bennet household gathered around Jane, who looked positively radiant—or so he assumed. He really couldn't make out expressions from this distance and he wasn't about to get closer.

But he saw Elizabeth. Laughing along with the rest.

He pretended he could hear the full, unrestrained laugh she did not attempt to hide. While others giggled, Elizabeth laughed. It was refreshing and tantalizing. He pretended he could see her upturned mouth as she did so, the wrinkles on the corners of her eyes, and the sparkles of joy in her deep brown eyes.

Turning around, Darcy started a brisk walk back toward Netherfield before anyone could look through the window and see him.

Watching her had squeezed his heart, but he could bear the pain. He had to, for Bingley's sake. Yes, he would go to the party and he would make it through. It was the least he could do for his close friend and his friend's future happiness. But he wished there were another way.

Several hours later, Darcy found himself climbing down from the carriage before Mr. Bingley. Longbourn once again stood in front of him, but this time, he was close enough to see details through the window.

He was both pleased and panicked to see Elizabeth cross in front of the frame. She was only visible for a moment, but that moment was enough to tell that she looked as beautiful as ever.

"It's a shame your sister couldn't join us," Darcy said, trying to distract himself from the sight of Elizabeth. He turned to Bingley as he put his hat on his head. "She, no doubt, would have enjoyed this chance to become more familiar with Miss Bennet."

"Ah, yes…" Bingley sounded unsure of how to continue. "Caroline knows how deeply I care for Miss Bennet. And she wants me to be happy… However…"

Darcy understood what Bingley was trying to say, and he immediately regretted bringing up his sister. He saved the man from having to continue with a slap on the back and a hearty, "And happy you shall be! Congratulations again."

He and Bingley shook hands warmly before moving to the front door. Bingley looked relieved; Darcy knew how much he loved his sister, and it clearly pained him that she was not fully pleased with his choice of a bride. He made a mental note not to bring it up again.

A servant opened the front door for them, and they entered Longbourn.

Darcy looked around as he stepped into the front entryway. He had never been inside the house before and was curious to see what the Bennets called home. His eyes met a neat, if simple, house. What might be expected from a family like the Bennets. He cut off his thoughts before they made a turn.

They handed their coats, hats and gloves to the servant and waited to be led into the sitting room. Bingley was bouncing slightly on his toes, eager to see his betrothed.

"She's not going anywhere, you know," Darcy whispered to him.

Bingley seemed to realise his bouncing and flashed Darcy an embarrassed smile. He settled himself without the bounce, but Darcy noticed his fingers were still impatiently dancing behind his back. Darcy chuckled quietly in amusement and allowed himself to feel a deep happiness for Bingley. His friend was in love and he naturally wished him the best.

The maid returned and walked them to the sitting room door. Opening it, she announced simply: "Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy."

She stood aside for them to enter, and Darcy could now see the whole room before him—including its occupants, the female members of the Bennet family, who now rose to greet them.

"Mr. Bingley!" Mrs. Bennet's bright voice burst out of the room as they entered, and she immediately rushed toward them. "And Mr. Darcy." Her voice gained a much cooler edge as she regarded him.

Darcy nodded at her politely, while his friend gave him an apologetic smile. He watched as Bingley immediately walked across the room to greet Jane. She gave him her hand, and he made a deep bow over it, kissing it, and said something quietly that Darcy couldn't quite hear.

"Now, now, dear boy! None of that!" Mrs. Bennet's voice pierced the air with a giggle.

Bingley straightened and both he and Jane coloured brightly. Darcy walked to a window in the room, hoping to fade into the background as the younger girls excitedly greeted his friend—their soon-to-be brother-in-law.

His mouth was quite dry and his heart raced as his eyes sought out Elizabeth in the room. She stood by her sister Jane, smiling warmly at Bingley. He willed himself to stop staring, but instead found himself memorizing her image. She was beautiful in a pale green dress and a small flower in her brown hair. It was simple, yet shockingly elegant.

As Mrs. Bennet fussed over Bingley and Jane, he saw Elizabeth turn and her eyes sought him out. His heart raced even faster as she surprisingly walked towards him. His back stiffened and he clenched his hands behind his back.

"Mr. Darcy, how lovely to see you today," Elizabeth said, making a small curtsy. Darcy bowed back slightly.

"Yes, quite." He did not like how cold his voice sounded, but he suddenly found it necessary to keep his emotions under tight control, lest he do something foolish. He stared straight ahead and fought down his rising embarrassment.

"Are you long at Netherfield?" She asked, attempting to continue the conversation.

"No, not long." His voice still sounded cold to his ears. "I just came to accompany Bingley in all this."

"Oh, yes, what a good friend you must be," she said, her lips curving into a smile.

Darcy smiled back at her slightly, but couldn't bring himself to face her. From the corner of his eye, he saw as she adjusted her gloves in a manner that made it clear that she was waiting for him to say something. Darcy tried to think of a way to continue the conversation in a pleasing manner, but his mind drew a blank.

It had been so long since he had seen Elizabeth the last time, and judging by the beat of his heart, his feelings for her had not faded in the least during the passing months, although he perhaps would have wished so.

Now, seeing her again, he found those feelings difficult to contain. He could hardly think of what to say to her without making a fool out of himself. His mind swept back to the days they had spent together at Pemberley…

And that's when an idea struck him.

"Your aunt and uncle Gardiner. They are well, I presume?" he asked, relieved to have discovered something of intelligence to say.

"Oh, yes," Elizabeth said. "They are quite well. They have returned to London now."

"Good, good," he replied, finding himself once more at a loss for words.

His mind reeled. He should have thought beforehand what to say to her…It wasn't like seeing her here came as a surprise to him.

The moment stretched on between them—well past the point of a polite pause in conversation and into the awkwardness of a conversational wall. Feeling slightly at odds, Darcy half smiled at her, but couldn't think of anything more to say. His eyes focused on everything but the woman beside him, and to both his relief and disappointment, she did the same.

Little by little, the seconds ticked by and the space between them grew intolerably. Finally, Elizabeth cleared her throat and ended the interminable silence.

"I should go see if Mamma needs help with anything," she said, sliding away from him.

"Yes, good. It was nice to see you," Darcy replied, thankful for the excuse, all the while he felt a stab of hurt in his chest at the loss of her company.

What a fool he was…

He could see Mrs. Bennet fully engaged with Bingley and knew Elizabeth had just tried to politely get away from him. She walked away and he watched her go, sadness mixed in with his relief.

This was going to be a long evening…


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER 3 - Elizabeth**

Elizabeth walked away from Darcy in a hurry, glad to end the tortuous conversation. Jane caught her as she walked by and whispered in her ear, "I had no idea Mr. Darcy would be accompanying Mr. Bingley tonight!"

"Yes, quite a surprise for us all, I'm sure," Elizabeth replied, willing her voice to be even and strong. "I do hope the evening's entertainments will be up to his exacting standards."

"Oh Lizzy, be nice," Jane chided her softly. "Without him, this night would not be possible. Remember that and be kind. For my sake, if nothing else."

Jane gave her a pleading look, and Elizabeth sighed, nodding her assent.

"I shall be the picture of hospitality," she promised.

Jane squeezed her arm and smiled. She opened her mouth to say something, but Mr. Bingley chose that moment to tap on her shoulder, quickly winning back her attention.

Elizabeth gladly left the two talking. She turned back to glance at Mr. Darcy, and noticed that her father had now taken her place beside him. The two men stood, drinks in hand, looking around the room. Both had expressions that clearly conveyed boredom.

Elizabeth followed their gaze and saw Kitty and Lydia giggling with their heads together as they watched Jane and Bingley. Mary sat by herself, disconsolately turning the pages of a book, and Mrs. Bennet flitted around the room, placing her nose in each conversation for a word or two.

She sighed to herself and immediately felt great sympathy for the two men.

But what was Mr. Darcy doing here!

Elizabeth felt a sense of panic rising within her. She had spent the day writing her valentine, but she had no idea an opportunity would arise so soon for it to be delivered. She had been counting on having a few days to gather her courage before finding an excuse to walk to Netherfield and deliver the missive.

Elizabeth quickly began to think through her plan, her mind racing with different possibilities. She soon settled upon delivering the valentine that very evening. It was best to follow through with her plan before she lost her courage. Yes, that was best. She unconsciously squared her shoulders, establishing her course of action.

Quickly glancing about the room, making sure everyone's attention was elsewhere, she stood up and slipped out the door. As she crossed the hall, she heard a few notes plucked out on the pianoforte. Good, Mary was beginning to play. It would be awhile before anyone noticed her absence.

Racing up the stairs, she darted into the room she shared with Jane. She firmly shut the door behind her and made her way through the gathering shadows to the bed. Reaching underneath her pillow, she pulled out the carefully constructed card.

As Elizabeth gazed at the plain envelope, the ivory paper seemingly highlighting the missing addressee from the front, she imagined the card inside.

She had lain awake for hours the night before, designing the valentine in her head. When compared with the gaudy cards in the shops, hers was plain indeed. But she certainly couldn't have bought something from the shops. Word of the scandal of Miss Elizabeth Bennet purchasing a valentine's card would have reached Longbourn long before she did.

Instead, she had slipped into Papa's library early that morning and, finding one of the flowers he kept pressed between the pages of his books, affixed a simple purple bud to the front the card. Around the edge, she had placed lace that she'd carefully pulled from one of her handkerchiefs.

It was simple, to be sure, but Elizabeth still thought it was something of which she could be proud.

Turning the envelope over in her hands, she thought of the words that accompanied the flower and lace. They were bold, and far too forward for her own good—but true, every last one of them.

And if this was what she needed to do in order to make things right by Mr. Darcy, it was what she would do. Her honour demanded it. And, she admitted to herself, he had changed in the months since. Whatever his manner toward her had been, her visit to Pemberley had shown her a different man.

"Elizabeth! Where did you get off to?" Her mother's shrill voice rang up the stairs.

Swiftly tucking the envelope into her sash, Elizabeth hurried from the room, quickly making an excuse.

"Here Mamma! A pin fell from my hair and I was just fixing it."

She reached the bottom of the stairs, and Mrs. Bennet looked at her appraisingly. Tucking a loose curl behind her ear, her mother gave her an unexpected verdict. "You look lovely, dear."

Elizabeth was surprised at the soft tone in her mother's voice. Mrs. Bennet was not one to dole out compliments, and she rarely had one for Elizabeth—even less so after she had rejected the most ungainly proposal of Mr. Collins.

"Thank you, Mamma," She replied, threading her arm through her mother's. "It's kind of you to say."

"Well, my dear, you can't hold a candle to Jane, but now that she's engaged, you are the focus of my heart."

Elizabeth clenched her teeth. That was more like Mamma. She sighed, knowing her mother meant well, but she was glad to re-enter the room with the rest of the party.

Walking about the room, she nodded her head in time to the tune Mary played. Not quite beautiful, but Mary played every note with all her heart, and the music was a fine addition to the evening.

She stopped beside Mr. Darcy again. He was alone this time, Mr. Bennet having gone to refresh his drink. He surveyed the gathering with the same bored expression he had worn earlier. Elizabeth attempted conversation once more, her mind trying to conjure a way to give him the valentine without anyone's notice.

"Do you know this tune?" she asked, her eyes on Mary as she played.

"It sounds familiar," Darcy replied. "Unfortunately, I find that I am not in possession of a fine ear for music. All of that talent went to Georgiana."

"Oh, yes, she plays beautifully. It was truly a gift when she played for us at Pemberley."

There. She had done it. She had broached him with the subject of their last meeting.

She held her breath and waited for Darcy to say something in reply.

"Your sister also plays quite well," Darcy said graciously, although Elizabeth could hear from his tone that he was being very gracious with his compliment indeed.

"Oh, yes. She has quite her own way with music," she replied, her heart sinking a little at the fact that he had fixated on another point in her words rather than her visit to Pemberley. Did he not wish to remember their time at his estate? Did her memory repaint the picture of those days with inaccuracies of fact and feeling?

Suddenly feeling foolish, and a bit sad, she searched for another topic, but the weight of the valentine—along with her growing doubts—kept her from landing upon any that might suit him.

To her relief, their maid came into the room and announced that dinner was served.

As Elizabeth watched the rest of the room rise and move towards the door, she immediately noticed that she had been left behind with Mr. Darcy. They would be the last two to take their leave from the room, and her heart almost leapt out of her chest at the realisation.

For a brief few seconds, they would be out of sight of everyone else in the party. This was her chance, and she knew she had to seize it.

Pushing aside the doubts his refusal to engage upon the topic of Pemberley had raised within her, she made her choice. Carefully removing the envelope, with its precious note inside, she hid it in her hands as Mr. Darcy offered to escort her to the dining room.

She stalled for a second, not taking his arm. As soon as she saw Mary's back go through to the hall, she quickly slipped the envelope out of its hiding place and into Darcy's hand.

"For you," she said somewhat breathlessly, too embarrassed to meet his gaze. "Please, keep it for yourself and no other."

Flushing deeply, she fled from the room and followed the rest of her family, uncaring of what they might think of her for not entering with Mr. Darcy.

After a split second, she dared a quick glance behind her. She saw Darcy standing completely still by the entrance of the sitting room, an expression of shock framing his features. He seemed to catch himself after a moment, stuffing the envelope into his jacket and Elizabeth sighed with relief.

Facing forward, a soft smile spread across her lips as she saw with satisfaction that no one had seen her covert delivery.


	4. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER 4 - Darcy**

Darcy watched Elizabeth disappear into the darkened hallway with shock. Turning the envelope over in his hands, he couldn't believe she had given it to him. It was most improper, and whatever his opinions of Elizabeth might have been in the past, he had never judged her to be improper.

He quickly tucked the envelope into his dinner jacket, and as he walked toward the door, he resolved not to view Elizabeth's actions through the lens of social convention and custom. For a young lady of her standing to risk such a thing… It must be important.

But what could be so important, Darcy could not begin to imagine. He knew what he hoped the letter to contain, but he was enough of a pragmatist to not let his expectations rest upon hopes and dreams. Even as he walked into the dining room, however, he allowed his mind to wander towards declarations like the ones Bingley and Miss Bennet had so recently shared with one another.

Glancing about the table, he saw that the ladies had already taken their seats, as had Mr. Bennet and Bingley—who seemed to be quite happily seated next to the oldest Miss Bennet. Which meant that his was the seat that had been left vacant by Mrs. Bennet.

With a small crush of disappointment at not having been seated next to Elizabeth, he took his place by Mrs. Bennet. To think that only earlier that day, he has insisted on avoiding Elizabeth, and now here he was, wishing to be seated beside her.

Although to be truthful, it was only natural for him to wish to be seated next to her rather than beside her more unfamiliar family members. Darcy was not at his best among people he was not familiar with.

Yes, that was it, he realised. That was why he wished to be seated beside her. It had absolutely nothing to do with seeing her again and the feelings the occurrence had awakened inside him. And it most definitely had nothing to do with the letter she had so covertly slipped him.

Darcy almost shook his head at his ridiculous thoughts. Who was he to lie to himself? He knew very well why he wished to be seated next to her.

Even as it was, Darcy found himself searching out Elizabeth's presence in the room. She sat on the same side of the table as he did, their seats divided only by the younger girls. He couldn't see her very well, but he could picture what she must be doing: her hands resting in her lap, patiently awaiting the start of the meal.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her turn and smile at him. His breath caught in his throat as he hesitantly smiled back, sharing a small moment with her despite their distance around the table.

What was in that letter!

His hands itched to pull the missive out of his pocket and read its contents immediately, but he knew he couldn't possibly embarrass them both in such a manner. He would have to wait until he got to privacy, but the wait was tormenting him.

As he watched Elizabeth on the other end of the table, his imagination started to get the best of him. His reactions to her smile and even her slightest movement seemed like a signal to everyone else at the table that something had passed between them.

 _Don't be foolish_ , he scolded himself. No one was watching either of them. All eyes were on Charles and Miss Bennet.

Ever since he had entered the room, the table had been occupied in pleasant conversation as they waited for the first course to be served. But suddenly, all the conversation seemed to stop around him and the room grew silent.

With a minute's delay, Darcy realised that Mr. Bennet had stood up. He held his glass aloft as he cleared his throat and began a toast.

"It is with great pleasure that I welcome you into my home and to dine at my table." He bowed slightly in Bingley's direction. "I know this will be the first of many such evenings as we welcome you, Mr. Charles Bingley, into our family."

Miss Bennet and Bingley smiled widely at each other, and as Darcy watched them, he could not help but think that he had never seen two people more satisfied with life.

"It is a moment of great pride for a father to see his eldest daughter matched with such a fine gentleman. I can only hope that my other daughters have such happy futures." The younger girls giggled indelicately and Darcy saw Elizabeth's mouth draw tight. "Now, let us all raise our glasses, and drink to the health and happiness of the couple. To Charles Bingley and Jane!"

Following Mr. Bennet's lead, Darcy lifted his glass and brought it to his lips. He was pleasantly surprised at the rich taste of the wine as he drank. Setting his glass down, he touched his napkin to his lips and waited for the first course to be served. The conversation re-emerged around him and he allowed the sounds of it to wash over him, joining only when he was directly spoken to.

Dipping his spoon into the soup set before him, he smelled the pleasant aroma of a potato and leek soup. Tasting, he was pleased with the combination and resolved to compliment Mrs. Bennet on her kitchen.

Hearing a lull in the general conversation, he began, "I say, Mrs. Bennet, I must offer my compliments to you and your kitchen. This is delicious."

Startled, Mrs. Bennet put down her own spoon and gently dabbed at her mouth before replying.

"Why, thank you, Mr. Darcy." Her tone was careful and her wide eyes spoke of her surprise, as if she had not expected him to pay her any compliment.

Darcy nodded politely, the dinner conversation continuing to buzz around him. He allowed the words to flow over him without paying them much mind, his mind racing back to the letter safely hidden in his breast pocket. The impatience he felt at not being able to tear open the envelope and satiate his curiosity was unlike any he could recall.

What could it possibly contain!

The dinner went by—first, one course, then another, and a third—with no one requiring any response from him aside from an occasional nod and "quite right" at the appropriate moments. But when he lifted a spoon of pudding, he suddenly noticed all eyes on him and realised, belatedly, that someone had asked him a question. Hastily, he reviewed the half-heard conversation in his mind and picked out an answer.

"Why, yes, I do believe Georgiana will come to the wedding—if Charles and Miss Bennet are so kind as to extend the invitation," he bowed his head toward Bingley.

"Why, of course, Georgiana is invited!" Bingley exclaimed, looking shocked that Darcy had to ask. "Our families have been friends for years! She's practically a sister of my own, and I know that Caroline dotes upon her."

"She'll be delighted, I'm sure," Darcy replied as everyone turned back to their desserts, no longer requiring his contribution to the conversation.

As Darcy paid more attention, he realised that it was getting to the point where no one's contribution was necessary. Mrs. Bennet was quite excitedly discussing the wedding, posing questions rapidly without giving Miss Bennet any opportunity to answer. Miss Bennet gave Bingley an apologetic look, and he returned it with one of utmost caring and patience. Mrs. Bennet prattled on, not noticing that the betrothed couple were completely occupied by each other, rather than by what she was saying.

"Why don't you and the ladies move into the sitting room for tea, my dear?" Mr. Bennet broke in as they had all finished the final course of the meal. "And the gentlemen may enjoy some male conversation."

Mrs. Bennet looked startled at the interruption, but quickly agreed and stood up. The rest of the ladies followed in suit and everyone stood from the table. As the ladies walked out, Darcy thought he saw Elizabeth pause at the door and look back at him, but the pause was so quick, he wasn't sure whether he had imagined it.

Mr. Bennet was busily packing his pipe after the women had left, and he poured the three of them glasses of port. The gentlemen settled themselves back, enjoying the smoke and drinks.

Puffing his pipe, Mr. Bennet again passed his congratulations to Bingley. "I believe I have mentioned it on previous occasions, but tonight has again confirmed it: you and Jane are most alike in countenance. Such similarity signals great contentment in your future together."

Charles thanked the man, and the conversation quickly began to exclude Darcy once more. Not caring, he found himself lost in his own thoughts, occasionally passing a word. The other two men seemed to take note of his preference for silence and required very little of him.

After several glasses each, Mr. Bennet tapped out his pipe and rose from the table. "I suppose we should re-join the ladies," he sighed. "I know you'll want more time with dear Jane, Mr. Bingley."

Bingley stood eagerly and nodded his thanks. Darcy got up more slowly and allowed Mr. Bennet and Bingley to leave the room first, continuing their conversation.

As he made his way to the door, he patted his pocket. Making sure the other two men were safely out of sight, he momentarily gave into his curiosity. He carefully removed the letter from its hiding place and stared at it.

He walked slowly towards the voices in the other room, turning the envelope over and over in his hands. Its plain front gave no indication of either the sender or the recipient, and the blob of wax on the back was simple. He gave it a gentle squeeze, as if feeling for more than paper.

"Darcy! Are you going to join us?" Bingley's voice interrupted Darcy's quick examination.

His heart almost jumped to his throat and he quickly stuffed the envelope back into his pocket before entering the sitting room. Striding straight to Bingley and Mr. Bennet, he purposely ignored Elizabeth and took up a place next to Bingley, standing with his hands clasped behind his back.

What had she been thinking! Giving him such a letter at the most inconvenient time!

His mind was again consumed by the contents of the envelope, but he tried to keep his curiosity under control and his expression neutral. He nodded to Bingley and Mr. Bennet as he joined them and tried, without much success, to pick up the thread of conversations in the room.

"What is this?" Lydia's voice suddenly broke through all conversation like a gunshot.

Darcy whirled around to see her standing in the middle of the room with an open envelope in her hand. Elizabeth was a pace away, her face pale and drawn. Darcy quickly, and surreptitiously, felt his pocket. With a sinking heart and a rising horror, he realised it was empty.


	5. Chapter 5

**The long-awaited chapter, I hope you enjoy!**

 **Love,**

 **Anne-Marie Grace**

* * *

 **CHAPTER 5 - Elizabeth**

She had seen it fall.

As if time were slowing, she had seen it drop from his pocket to the floor. She had seen his foot nudge it under the carpet, and she had seen him walk over it. With a pounding heart, she had forced herself to not rush. To not run. To not draw attention to herself.

She wanted to sprint, grab the envelope and thrust it into the flames of the fireplace without anyone seeing. For a moment, she wished herself a sprite able to hide herself from the sight of mortals. But most of all, she prayed that no one else had seen the pale square against the dark floor.

Elizabeth walked towards the envelope and with strained effort, forced herself not to stare at it. Five paces away, check to see it was still there, look away. Four steps away, smile at Mamma, quick look, everything remained the same. Two steps away, she noticed movement to her side. With a thrill of dread, she saw Lydia dart past her and snatch up the letter.

"What is this?" Elizabeth felt the words jolt through her like lightening. She reached out helplessly as Lydia tore open the envelope.

"Oh, my!" Lydia exclaimed, her eyes widening as she ferociously took in the front of the valentine. She flipped it open and eagerly read the words inside. "This is a valentine!" Her voice dripped with shock and scandal.

"A valentine for…" She paused dramatically. "Mr. Darcy!"

Lydia burst into a fit of giggles as she said it, and Elizabeth whirled around to see an ashen-faced Mr. Darcy. His mouth was tight and his eyes flashed menacingly. She willed apology and shared anger into her eyes, before turning back to Lydia.

She had begun to read aloud:

"My dear Mr. Darcy, it is with a trembling hand that I put my pen to paper..." Lydia put saccharine emotion into every word, and Elizabeth glowered at the girl, urging her to desist with a terrible look on her face. She dared not be the first to speak for fear that she would be uncovered as the author and sender of the scandalous letter.

"I have wrestled day and night, and I must share with you the fruits of my conflict. I have behaved poorly. I have misjudged and mischaracterised you in every way. I have destroyed what could have been without truly considering the cost to either of us. For this, the mere words of apology seem to be small recompense, but I do not know what else to offer that you might accept…"

Her eyes grew wider as she read. "My goodness! What did this poor woman do to you, Mr. Darcy?!" She questioned eagerly.

Mr. Darcy did not respond, his stony silence saying much into the sudden quiet. Everyone stared at Lydia in obvious shock, and no one seemed to be able to speak. Elizabeth felt her heart beating rapidly in her chest and she begged for some kind of interruption, for she could not do it herself.

The interruption came in the form of Jane, who seemed to be the first to discover her voice.

"Lydia, I really think this is most inappropriate…" Jane began quietly, admonishing her sister. Her voice was unfortunately too soft, and Lydia paid her no mind, dashing across the room as she continued to read.

"I am sorry, Mr. Darcy, with all of my being, I am sorry. However, my apology was never the object of my indecision. Rather, I have struggled if I should tell you what I now know is written across my heart." Lydia's voice grew higher with anticipation, just as Elizabeth felt panic rising in her throat.

"Mamma, you must tell her…" She quietly begged her mother, knowing what was coming next.

Mrs. Bennet seemed frozen in place. She sat up straight, her hand on her breast, obviously hanging onto Lydia's every word. Elizabeth's plea seemed to break her concentration, however, and she cleared her throat.

"Oh, yes… Lydia, dear... This is Mr. Darcy's personal correspondence and it is quite rude to read it. You should return the letter to him, dear."

Elizabeth fumed. Their mother's correction was the very definition of half-hearted! Lydia knew this and continued to read with relish.

"You have consumed me. When my mind is not actively engaged on another task, it is on you. It has become impossible for my heart to rest upon any other, and my very soul is at risk for its allegiance to God is in question." Elizabeth felt her face begin to burn at the blasphemy. "I am in agony. I have dashed our happiness against the rocks and my hope that I have not committed a grave mistake has no grounding…"

"Lydia!" Elizabeth finally found her voice, sharply breaking into Lydia's elocution. "This is the height of improper behaviour!"

Lydia ignored her and darted around the room, rushing through the final lines of the letter. Elizabeth wanted to rush after her and tear the letter from her hands, but to do that would most definitely give her out as the author. Oh, what had she done!

"And yet, I find that I must make a most quixotic request that we might renew our acquaintance. It is my great wish that our precious affections are not forever lost. At your feet, I have lain myself open to whatever treatment this confession deserves. I pray you to look upon it with kindness…"

Suddenly, Elizabeth watched with shock as Jane pushed by her and snatched the letter from Lydia's hand. This was most unlike Jane!

"Enough!" Jane was breathing hard through her nose, spots of colour on her cheeks. "You have behaved abominably, Lydia, and I am ashamed!" She hissed, only loud enough for Lydia and Elizabeth to hear.

Jane held out her hand expectantly and Lydia placed the envelope into it. Returning the valentine to the envelope, Jane slowly turned to face the room. Elizabeth gave Lydia the most disappointed look she could muster, and turned to the rest of the room as well. Everyone's face wore similar masks of shock.

Mrs. Bennet and Kitty's shock was interlaced with intrigue and amusement, while Mr. Bingley, Mr. Bennet and Mary looked most uncomfortable. But the one face Elizabeth cared about, she was afraid to behold.

Elizabeth heard Jane take a breath to compose herself before walking to Mr. Darcy and handing him the repackaged envelope.

"Mr. Darcy, from the bottom of my heart, I apologise for my sister's behaviour." Jane curtsied low. "It was most unacceptable and you have my word that she will not forget her error in judgement." At these words, she stared hard at their mother and father, who had done so little to stop their youngest.

"Quite right," Mr. Bennet finally broke in, as if waking from a stupor. "My sincerest apologies, Mr. Darcy."

"And mine," Mrs. Bennet fluttered. "I cannot bring myself to imagine what the girl was thinking…"

"Thank you," Mr. Darcy said, cutting Mrs. Bennet off. He took the envelope from Jane and carefully placed it in his pocket. "But I think, if Bingley agrees, I will take my leave now. I am quite tired." His voice was cold and full of embarrassment and anger.

He strode quickly from the room, not waiting for Mr. Bingley's response. As he passed, Elizabeth gave him a desperate look of apology—one he did not acknowledge as he fled the room. Elizabeth's heart sank—she didn't know what to think of his reaction.

"Yes, it is late," Mr. Bingley said weakly. "I, too, shall take my leave. My dear Miss Bennet, if you would walk me out?" He turned to Jane with a half-smile, holding his arm to her, and they both walked out after Mr. Darcy.

Elizabeth followed, using the excuse of a chaperone to flee the room as well.

As she left, she heard Mrs. Bennet burst out, "A valentine, but who was it from?!"

"It was only signed 'A blind woman'!" Lydia said. "Do you really think she cannot see? Her words were quite lovely…"

She quickly filled in the rest of the letter for Mrs. Bennet and Kitty, and Elizabeth felt her jaw tighten with anger—for both herself and for Mr. Darcy.

That morning, she had only her own behaviour to make amends for. She had only her words to admit new and alarming feelings. This morning, words on a page had seemed a weak and unworthy tool. Now, she despaired that there would ever be anything she could do to make up for the disastrous night.

Elizabeth watched from the shadows as Mr. Bingley chastely said goodbye to Jane. After a few quiet words to one another, he stepped into his carriage—presumably joining Mr. Darcy as the man was already nowhere to be seen.

Jane quietly waved him goodbye and walked back to Elizabeth, taking her hand. They entered the house again, passing by the sitting room where the letter was still the topic of discussion, and she and Jane climbed the stairs to their room.

Quietly closing the door behind her, Jane turned to Elizabeth and softly spoke out only two words.

"How long?" she asked.

Elizabeth sat on the edge of the bed and removed her shoes, startled by the question.

"Whatever do you mean?" She responded, pretending confusion.

Jane walked to the bed and sat down beside Elizabeth.

"How long have you been in love with Mr. Darcy?"

Elizabeth's shoulders drooped and she gave huge sigh. "What gave it away?" She was not surprised Jane had figured it out, and she immediately decided to stop pretending with her dear sister.

"I have been privileged to read many thousands of your words, my dear sister." Jane gently put a finger beneath Elizabeth's chin and raised until their eyes met. "So, tell me, how long?"

Elizabeth felt tears begin to form in her eyes. The kindness in Jane's voice, the gentle expression on her face and the lack of judgement or reproach in her eyes... It hit Elizabeth like a stone. The affection and love she had for her eldest sister threatened to overwhelm her as she began to answer.

"Months," she said quietly, fighting back the tears. "Since returning from Derbyshire with aunt and uncle. No. Perhaps even before that."

Jane nodded and placed her arm around Elizabeth's shoulders, drawing her close.

"And now," Elizabeth began to weep softly. "Now, it is unthinkable that Mr. Darcy should ever again hold me in high regard!"

She let her head fall to Jane's shoulder and allowed herself to cry with abandon. Jane wrapped her other arm around her shaking sister and drew her closer still. As Elizabeth cried, Jane rested her head on her sister's and softly rocked her, making soothing sounds.

The two sisters sat together for what seemed like hours. When Elizabeth had no more tears to spare, she gently broke free of her sister's warmth. Wiping her face, she smiled weakly at Jane.

"You must think the most terrible thoughts of me," Elizabeth said, suddenly concerned that Jane would be most disapproving.

"Oh Lizzy, I could never think terribly of you!" Jane replied, looking aghast at the idea.

"But, giving him such a letter… it is the height of improper!"

"I trust you," Jane said simply. "If there were a better way, you would have done so."

"It does not matter, in any case," Elizabeth said sadly. "I believe I shall never again see him again."

"No," Jane said, shaking her head. "Even after this evening, I think I will be rejoicing that your engagement follows so soon after my own."

"Oh, you are sweet, dear sister. But I do not deserve such confidence." Elizabeth laughed bitterly. "Even before tonight, the most rational conclusion to Mr. Darcy and my acquaintance would be polite solicitude—nothing more."

Jane suddenly looked vexed. "Lizzy, sister of my heart. Your eyes are quick to observe the actions and motivations of others, but I think you are quite unaware of yourself. If Mr. Darcy cannot find it within himself to return your affections, he is not deserving of them."

Elizabeth smiled weakly, silently giving up convincing her sister of another conclusion.

"Now," Jane said standing and taking down her hair. "As we prepare for bed, I wish to hear all of it. It seems that you have kept much to yourself these past months."

Elizabeth stood and helped with the buttons on Jane's dress.

"Yes, I believe I have," she admitted. "Though I am hesitant to tell the story. I am afraid I am not quite the heroine in this tale..."


	6. Chapter 6

**CHAPTER 6 - Darcy**

Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley rode in silence for several minutes after the carriage began to move. Darcy stared just above Bingley's head, resolutely not catching his friend's eye. Bingley drummed his fingers on the seat beside him, as if trying to grab his gaze. Darcy heard the drumming, but stayed inside his own thoughts.

Not just a letter, but a valentine! From Elizabeth!

If not for the burning disgrace of the last hour, his heart would have been leaping in joy. To hear her words, not just of atonement, but of affection and possibly—dare he think it?—words of love?

He felt his emotions at war within him—elation over the contents of the valentine, and anger over the manner in which he had learned the contents.

"Are you going to say _anything_ about this evening?" Bingley burst out all of a sudden, breaking the silence of the carriage.

"It was a fine dinner," Darcy replied after a pause. He was annoyed to be pulled from his contemplation and purposely avoided the topic which the other man was undoubtedly referring to. "Yes, a fine meal indeed."

Bingley threw his hands in the air, the darkness in the carriage not quite blotting out the gesture. "Really, that's the only comment you have?"

"What would you have me say, Charles?" Darcy shot back, feeling his temper rise. "Would you like me to discuss my humiliation at length? To talk about the frugality of manners displayed tonight?"

"Darcy…" Bingley began. "You know that is not what I was referring to. And you have no need to be embarrassed. This is clearly a situation where the only humiliation lies with the girl and her parents. I shall discuss the matter with Mr. Bennet the next time I meet with him."

"No, there is no need for that," Darcy sighed. "It is my sincere desire that this never be brought up again."

"Alright, I shall abide by your wishes," Bingley agreed.

They continued to ride in silence for another few minutes. Darcy's mind raced through the various responses he could give to Elizabeth. Should he write her a letter? A valentine, as well? Should he speak with her in person? Or would she prefer to pretend he did not exist, and completely erase the memory of both her valentine and the dinner?

Before he could make a decision about his course of action, Bingley broke the silence again.

"So, you really are not going to discuss the letter—the _valentine_ —with me? You must know how cruel it is to not assuage my interest."

"There really is no point in my not saying anything, is there?" Darcy asked resignedly. "You will continue to ask until I give a satisfactory response to the debacle?"

"I consider it my duty as your friend," Bingley replied in mock solemnity. "We can begin with the most basic question of all—who gave it to you? It was quite a risk for any young woman to send you such a card. Unless… Darcy, are you engaged without telling me?"

"Of course not," Darcy answered shortly. "What foolishness."

"Well then," Bingley pressed. "Who sent it?"

Darcy shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"A young woman," he acknowledged. "Of good birth… In fact, I am supremely uncomfortable dragging her name down in this manner. She should not be thought of in a deriding manner for this act. It obviously took her great courage to deliver it to me, even if its deliverance was clearly against all rules of propriety."

He rubbed his face with his hands, hiding a smile. Such courage! For him! From Miss Elizabeth Bennet. His anger was now completely gone, replaced by pure bliss and contentment within his being.

"Well, Darcy," Bingley replied. "I shall not require you to divulge her name."

"Thank you," Darcy said, relaxing significantly.

"No, you shall not have to tell me her name, for I believe I can puzzle it out."

Darcy tensed again at his words, but Bingley was not to be stopped and he began to think aloud.

"You, Darcy, are a man of logic," he said. "And it makes no logical sense to carry about such an incriminating letter. So, since you had ample opportunity to divest yourself of the letter before we left Netherfield, the only logical conclusion is that you received the note after we left the estate."

Bingley paused, as if waiting for Darcy to contradict him. He said nothing.

"Ah, by your silence, I will assume that I am on the correct track, yes?"

Darcy cleared his throat, feeling more and more uncomfortable by the minute, but still refused to speak.

"Well, between leaving Netherfield and arriving at Longbourn, you met with myself and my driver. I do not think that Jenkins would give you a valentine, and I don't believe he has any daughters that might trick him into delivering you a message. Which means that you must have been given the note at Longbourn." He tapped his chin in thought. "Six women at Longbourn, but we can automatically eliminate Mrs. Bennet and Jane…"

He stopped sharply. "We can eliminate Jane, can't we?" he asked desperately.

"Do not be ridiculous, Charles," Darcy huffed. Bingley sighed with audible relief.

"So, we can eliminate Mrs. Bennet and Jane. That leaves four daughters… Now that I've narrowed it down, would you care to give any evidence?"

Darcy gave Bingley a dirty look, but Bingley either didn't see it in the darkness of the carriage or ignored him, quickly continuing his verbal investigation.

"Four daughters: Elizabeth, Mary, Catherine, and Lydia." Darcy stiffened slightly at the mention of Elizabeth's name, and prayed that Bingley hadn't noticed. "I do think Lydia is out; she would not have read out her own valentine in such a manner, and I do not think her clever enough to devise such a scheme as to throw suspicion away from herself. Elizabeth, Mary, or Catherine…"

Bingley tapped his finger against his lips, seemingly deep in thought.

"I am not familiar enough with the younger Bennet girls," he mused.

Darcy's heart leapt in hope. Could it be that his friend was not be able to figure out the author of the valentine? Could he possibly spare Elizabeth the humiliation he was enduring?

"But I know you," Bingley said at last. "And, forgive me for saying this, but the letter made it sound as though you and she are not strangers. For this reason alone, I believe I can safely eliminate Catherine and…"

He stopped without finishing his thought, and stared openly at Darcy. The moonlight filtering through the shade illuminated Bingley's face just enough to reveal a huge grin. Darcy's heart raced and he held his breath, waiting for Bingley to finish.

"Elizabeth. It is Elizabeth, isn't it?" Bingley said in a knowing manner.

Darcy let out his breath heavily, the frozen cloud hanging between himself and Bingley. He opened his mouth to reply, but Bingley cut him off.

"No, don't say anything. I have satisfied my curiosity, and I shall not make you break whatever confidences you share with her."

Darcy shook his head. The relief he felt for someone finally knowing, to finally be able to discuss the situation, outweighed his previous concerns.

"Charles, I fear we share no confidences," he said.

"What could you possibly mean?" Bingley asked with surprise. "The letter tonight clearly indicated an acquaintance between you and her. And she wishes it to continue! Of course you share a confidence."

"That was before," Darcy said miserably, every worry and ill-thought crashing upon him. "After my inconsiderate mistake, my utter idiocy, and my inability to properly guard such a letter, I would suspect that she would rather not see me ever again."

As he spoke the words, his heart sank toward despair. Much as he might wish them to be untrue, he felt the stab of the fact in his heart. Elizabeth might never want to see him again.

"If I might supply a different interpretation of the evening," Bingley said gently. "I admit, I only connected you to Miss Elizabeth in the last few minutes, but I remember her reaction. I remember her face. She did not look angry at you. Her anger was reserved for Miss Lydia and no other. For you, she only had… fear, I believe. Despair. My friend, I suspect that she has the same fear that you have—that you will not want to see her."

Darcy mulled over Bingley's words and observations, trying to match his recollections to his friend's. It was true that Bingley had been quite foolish to not see Jane's regard for him in the beginning, but he normally possessed a keen eye for human interaction. In many other situations, Darcy had trusted Bingley's judgement of character and expression without hesitation. In fact, there were certain circles in London that would no longer entertain Bingley at their card tables because of the man's ability to observe.

But to trust Bingley in this would be to take his heart, still beating, from his chest and lay it out for all to see. This was no game with simple money at stake, this was much more dangerous.

"You have given me much to think over, Charles," Darcy finally said.

"I want you to have a chance at happiness," his friend countered with a smile.

"Ah yes, but you have offered me something far more dangerous than a chance at happiness. You have offered me the sharp dagger that is hope. And should I take it, I may be happy with the blade and the use it provides, but the far more likely outcome is that I shall be cut or stabbed in the heart. And with that is sadness."

"Darcy, since our school days, I have watched you refuse to become excited or joyous at anything," Bingley sighed. "I know you feel within yourself, and perhaps you feel quite deeply. But if you will not make your feelings known to Miss Elizabeth, I fear that you will never find contentment."

"I did make my feelings known," Darcy replied quietly, closing his eyes against the painful recollection. "Charles, I proposed to her—months ago! And she refused me. I made my feelings known and she rejected them."

Bingley was startled to hear both the confession of proposal and the pain in his friend's voice. For a long time, it seemed as if he did not know what to say.

Finally, he replied, "The words I heard tonight did not sound like the words of a woman ready to reject, condemn or belittle."

Darcy did not respond. He felt them turn off the main road, and begin up the drive to Netherfield. Inside, he struggled to defeat his fear. Bingley's words made sense—rationally, he could be correct in his interpretation of both Elizabeth's actions and words. But for the first time in Darcy's life, rationality did nothing to abate his feelings.

"I don't know that I can do it, Charles," Darcy admitted aloud. "I do not know if I possess the strength of will or of spirit."

Bingley reached out and briefly squeezed Darcy's shoulder.

"I understand," Bingley said sadly as the carriage pulled to a stop in front of Netherfield.

"What are you plans for tomorrow?" Darcy asked as the two of them exited the carriage. He hoped his friend might join him for some diversion.

"I am to Longbourn," Bingley smiled broadly. "There is still much for Jane and I to discuss."

Darcy nodded his understanding, but could not help but feel disappointed. Crunching across the drive, he thought about his plans. Perhaps he should leave Netherfield tomorrow. The idea brought both relief and sadness—if he left tomorrow, he'd never have the opportunity to discuss the valentine with Elizabeth.

But to stay… He might face an even worse of a rejection than he did nearly a year ago at Rosings, when he had laid his heart open to her for the first time. And this time, he wasn't sure whether he could survive it…

Charles' words, along with Elizabeth's, echoed in his mind as he climbed the steps toward the house. With each stair, he thought of the other times and fears that he had faced, and had triumphed over: Riding a horse as a child. Going away to school. Running the estate after his father's death. Raising Georgiana.

Each experience, full of uncertainty, danger, anxiety and fear. And yet, he had faced each of them with honour and success. Never before had he allowed himself to fall prey to the beast of fear.

"Charles," Darcy called suddenly, stopping Bingley before he entered the house. "You're to Longbourn tomorrow?"

"Yes," he said slowly. "I'm to go after breakfast."

"I will join you," Darcy said, making up his mind.

Bingley smiled broadly at him, although his expression also revealed a hint of surprise.

"Well done," he said with a hearty tone. "Well done indeed." He reached out to shake Darcy's hand and pulled him up the last step and through the door into Netherfield Hall. "You shall see, it will all work out. You shall see."

Darcy allowed himself to be towed through the hall, half listening to Bingley's reassurances. Inside, he felt the anxiety welling up. Swallowing hard, he refused to give it any credence. If Miss Elizabeth Bennet could display such courage, then he, Fitzwilliam Darcy, was required, by conscience and honour, to match it.


	7. Chapter 7

**CHAPTER 7 - FINAL - Elizabeth**

When Elizabeth woke the next morning, she was sad to see the sun shining through the windows, trumpeting a beautiful winter's day. She felt wretched and wished for the weather to match her foul mood.

She realised it must already be late, as Jane was nowhere to be seen. Usually, the both of them rose early, but now it seemed she had slept longer than usual—and she knew why. She had lain awake most of the night again, her mind refusing to let go of the events of the previous day—as it still did.

With a groan, Elizabeth rolled over and sat up, unwilling to face the day. What could the day possibly hold!

Undoubtedly the topic of conversation would still be upon Mr. Darcy and the mysterious valentine. She loved her mother and sisters dearly, but their preoccupation with the lives of others was maddening at times. She got out of bed and dressed with dread for the day.

As she left the room and walked down the stairs, she heard her father call out to her from his study, "Lizzy, I wonder if you would join me in my room?"

Elizabeth turned to her father without surprise—they often shared discussion in the morning. But on this morning, Elizabeth was unsure what exactly her father wished to discuss.

Mr. Bennet walked to the door of his study and held it open for her while she entered. He closed it gently behind them as she took a seat, and settled into his own chair. He began to drink from his teacup, and Elizabeth waited patiently for her father to begin speaking. Taking several sips, he set his teacup back down and look at Elizabeth with great curiosity in his eye.

"Such a wonderful turn of events for dear Jane, isn't it?" He said, nonchalantly.

"Yes, indeed. I suspect the two of them shall be most pleased with the arrangement," Elizabeth replied uncertainly. This was familiar territory—she and Mr. Bennet had already discussed Jane and Mr. Bingley several times over the past few days. Whyever would he be bringing it up once more?

"And that business last night with Mr. Darcy. Quite shocking, wasn't it?" He took another sip from his teacup.

"Ah, yes, quite strange indeed," Elizabeth said, a slight panic beginning to rise within her. Did her father suspect?

Mr. Bennet looked at her over the rim of his teacup as if waiting for her to continue. When she did not, he gave a hearty sigh and put the cup aside. Folding his hands over his stomach, he looked at Elizabeth fondly.

"My dear girl, it is no secret that you are my favourite. While most of my household is devoid of intelligent conversation and wit, you have provided an oasis. And with Jane leaving the name of Bennet behind, it is not lost upon me that you shall soon follow her."

Elizabeth gripped her dress tightly in her hands. "Papa, what do you…"

He held up his hand, cutting her off.

"Whomever you choose, make sure they are worthy of you, my dear. Do not think that you need pursue wealth or station at the cost of your happiness and heart," Mr. Bennet looked sad and resigned. "Things fade and the happiness they once provided do not continue through the years."

Elizabeth felt a tear form in her eye; she knew he referred to his own household and marriage. The love she held for her mother and father did not blind her to the realities of their unhappiness.

Mr. Bennet leaned forward and took her hands in his, saying, "Lizzy, you need not do this."

With that simple sentence, she knew her father was aware of the author of Mr. Darcy's valentine. Her face burned, but she looked him in the eye, thinking carefully about what she wanted to say.

"Papa, you wish for me to have the same happiness that you assume Jane will enjoy. I assure you, that is what I seek as well. I could never be induced to matrimony for anything less than great love and respect." Tears began to flow down her face as she continued. "But I fear I have ruined it all."

Mr. Bennet took his daughter into his arms and held her as she cried. He allowed her to cry for a few minutes uninterrupted, but with a final squeeze he pushed her away and handed her a handkerchief. Elizabeth wiped her face and waited for him to say something.

"My dear, you have ruined nothing," he finally said. "If your actions cause ruination, then he was never deserving of you. Remember that." Elizabeth smiled and handed him back the handkerchief. "I suspect that we will soon see the final act of the drama that began last night. For myself, I believe I need time to adjust to a new reality in your heart and feelings. I fear I was very wrong about them. Very wrong, indeed."

"No, Papa, it was I who was in the wrong. I judged without knowing and passed my prejudices along to others." She shook her head sadly. "There have been very few times when I have erred in quite so bad a way."

Before Mr. Bennet could reply, Kitty and Lydia burst into the room.

"Lizzy! You'll never guess who is here!" Kitty said breathlessly.

"It's Mr. Darcy!" Lydia said on top of Kitty, leaving no room for Elizabeth to wonder or guess. "And he's asking for you!"

Mr. Bennet smiled and settled back into his chair.

"Go on," he said, amusement dancing in his eyes as he picked up the newspaper. Elizabeth gave him one last grateful look before she followed Kitty and Lydia from the room.

"He came with Mr. Bingley," Kitty said, updating Elizabeth of all she had missed.

"And he suggested walking towards Meryton!" Lydia said, talking over Kitty.

"And you know Mamma doesn't like walking so she's not coming, and neither is Mary, but Mr. Darcy asked for you to come!" Kitty informed, looking sourly at Lydia.

"He said he knew you were fond of walking and if you might want to join us!" Lydia said, ignoring Kitty's look and trying to outdo her sister.

Elizabeth was grateful for the chatter, taking advantage of the moments it gave to gather herself. Upon reaching the sitting room door, she took a deep breath before going in. Kitty and Lydia quickly left her to gather their cloaks and bonnets for the walk.

Pushing the door open, she immediately saw that Jane and Mr. Bingley were sitting together with their mother. Scanning the room, she allowed herself to eagerly seek out Mr. Darcy. He stood with his back to the door, staring into the fire with his hands behind his back. Upon hearing the door open, he turned and looked into her eyes.

Her breath caught in her throat as his eyes seemed to bore into hers. He was wearing a blue jacket that brought out the colour in his eyes. His dark hair curled slightly over his forehead and was not nearly as neat as Elizabeth had seen it before. His mouth gave a slight twitch of a smile when he saw her, but quickly settled into its semi-permanent neutrality.

Upon seeing him, Elizabeth decided to take her father's advice into her heart and soul: Mr. Darcy now knew her affections to have changed. If his were different, or if the events of the previous evening had changed them, then she would still hold her head high.

"Good morning, Mamma. Mr. Bingley. Mr. Darcy," Elizabeth said with a slight curtsey.

"Good morning, Lizzy," Mrs. Bennet fluttered. "Hurry now, get your cloak and gloves. Everyone is going for a walk this morning." She looked pointedly at Jane and Mr. Bingley, clearly meaning the walk was for their benefit and Elizabeth would be doing them a favour.

"Yes, good morning, Miss Bennet," Mr. Darcy bowed. "It would be a great pleasure for you to join us. I recall you enjoy taking in a walk, and it is quite a fine morning." His voice was strong, and Elizabeth could almost feel the deep baritone resonate within her.

"Of course, walking is one of my great pleasures. I shall be pleased to join you."

If Elizabeth's attention had not been solely focused upon Mr. Darcy, she would have noticed Jane and Mr. Bingley exchange an almost conspiratorial look. But all of her attention was focused on Mr. Darcy, and she missed what she—under normal circumstances—would have seen immediately. Thankfully, Mrs. Bennet was equally unaware of the look that had passed between the two, and continued to fuss over the newly engaged couple while ignoring Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth.

A quarter of an hour later, the small group departed up the drive of Longbourn, headed generally in the direction of Meryton. Lydia and Kitty giggled and skipped along ahead of the group, while Jane and Mr. Bingley fell behind, arm in arm as they walked and talked.

Soon, Elizabeth found herself walking together with Mr. Darcy, nearly alone.

Turning, as if to check to see how far Mr. Bingley and Jane lagged behind, Mr. Darcy said, "I believe that you and I have much to discuss."

"Yes, I believe we might," Elizabeth responded, willing her voice to remain calm although her nerves were trying to get the better of her.

"You are too kind to trifle with me," he said in a rush, as if eager to get his words out before he, too, lost his courage. "If I have misinterpreted your message, and your affections are unchanged since last year, tell me now. But you must know, Miss Bennet, that since then, mine are only changed in the depth of their intensity."

He stopped and turned to her, his eyes almost sparkling in the sunlight. Jane and Bingley were out of sight behind a slight rise, and Kitty and Lydia were far ahead, not paying any attention to them at all. Realising this, Elizabeth felt her heart begin to race.

Darcy took her hands into his, staring deeply into her eyes.

"Elizabeth," he said softly. "I loved you all those months ago, but the depth with which I love you now was an unknown possibility then. Please, tell me if I might hope for the same from you."

They were standing only inches apart. His eyes begged her to answer. Each puff of his breath broke over her face, and she gave him a dazzling smile in return.

"Oh, Mr. Darcy, what a fool I was. I refused to see your character then from the blindness of prejudice." His grip on her hands tightened. "But in the past months, you must know that I have seen you for who you really are: kind, generous, intelligent—not without pride, to be sure," she laughed. "But certainly, you have not the arrogance I had ascribed to you before. After all you have done for Jane, for my family, of course I share your affections."

Darcy released his grip on her hands, his expression suddenly becoming sad.

"I do not wish for you to love me on your family's behalf," he said quietly. "I understand if that is the only affection with which you can hold me in—my behaviour and preoccupation with society and station is reason enough for that. But if you love me, love me for your sake and no others."

Elizabeth reached out and gently touched his face, shocking herself at her boldness. At her touch, he closed his eyes and leaned his cheek into her hand.

"It is you I love," she said quietly. "My family has nothing to do with it, only you."

With his eyes still closed, a broad smile began to form on his face. Opening his eyes slowly, he too, reached out to stroke Elizabeth's face, pushing a loose strand of hair back underneath her bonnet.

"Then, my love, my dear Elizabeth," he said, raising her hands to his lips. "Will you put me out of my agony?" He kissed one hand. "Will you become my wife?" He kissed the other, and held his lips on her chilled skin.

Elizabeth laughed joyfully, for both the words and the feel of his lips on her frozen hands.

"Yes," she said simply. "Of course, I will."

At her words, Darcy looked almost transformed. Elizabeth had never seen the man smile as broadly as he did then, and if her smile matched his by even half, she knew she must be the happiest she had ever been.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Jane and Mr. Bingley walk over the crest of the hill. Gently, she pulled her hands from Mr. Darcy's grip.

"I can't think of anyone I'd rather share this news with than dear Jane and Mr. Bingley," she said, watching them draw near.

"Nor I, my love," Mr. Darcy agreed.

Together, she and Mr. Darcy walked to meet the other couple and to share their news. Her face was all smiles, and as they walked, Elizabeth couldn't help but feel that she was very lucky. Should the rest of her life be half as wonderful as this day, she would continue to be very lucky indeed.

 **~THE END~**

* * *

 **Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed the story.**

 **I know many of you were looking forward to Lydia's punishment, but I wanted to concentrate more on the relationship between Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy in this story.** **Don't worry though, after her little stunt, she certainly didn't go without a punishment!** **It just took place off the pages of this story, sorry about that!**

 **This is the very first story I've posted on , and my first Pride and Prejudice fanfiction, and I just want to thank you all for your support and for all the lovely comments!** **This is the end for now, but there will be more stories to come. Thank you again!**

 **Love,**

 **Anne-Marie Grace**


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